I was Killed This Week by a Heart Attack

I had been noting a shortness of breath when I walked the block-and-a-half to work over a couple weeks time.

Not an encouraging sign because one thing I could always do was walk.

People tell me all the time when introduced to me they've seen me walking around town. (I have a theory about cars...I don't trust anything I can afford.)

Monday night (Nov 26) about 11:15 PM, I was forced awake by a strong burning low in my esophagus or throat. (Looking back, probably my aorta.) I had to sit up in bed.

I got up and walked back and forth from bedroom to kitchen but that did not help. As I walked, it occurred to me, 'maybe this is a heart attack coming on.' I didn't know what kind of symptom to expect...I mean what exactly does 'pain in your chest' mean.

My reluctance to accept that I was having a heart attack was counterbalanced by my awareness that if I was wrong, I could be dead by morning.

No health insurance, an income that is a little better than adequate, I can't afford to go to the emergency room. But, maybe it's a developing ulcer or something else I'm not familiar with. They give me some pills and send me home with a bill of a couple hundred dollars. After all, normally, I'm healthy as a horse, despite being seriously overweight.

Without hurry, hoping things would clear up, I took my time dressing, went downstairs, but all the time, the pain continued. The cold air helped and I walked up and down the street. It felt better but didn't go away and I knew it would be back to full strength when I got back up to my apartment.

I slowly drove to the hospital, parked in the main lot where I figured the car was least likely to be towed (who knows?). I walked around to the emergency room at Washington County Hospital and Health Care Clinic (Nashville, IL).

Everyone I invariably encountered from that moment on was fast, professional, efficient, friendly, and helpful. Thank goodness.

I stripped off my coat and T-shirt and they began checking me out. Soon I was laying down and the doctor was telling me I was having a heart attack. If I'd delayed an hour, to quote Richard Pryor, cancel Christmas. Bad news, because I was moonlighting as Santa Claus downtown.

I nodded off.

I was suddenly conscious again, fighting the multiple sets of hands holding me down on the table. As I regained my equilibrium, I relaxed. The doctor appeared above me. My heart had stopped. He had given me three jolts with the defibrillator to bring me back. I still have the marks on my chest although I am told they will go away.

"We were going to send you to Good Samaritan in Mt Vernon by helicopter but the flying conditions are bad. So we're sending you by ambulance," the doctor told me. By now I think it was about 2:00 or so. I asked that they call my friend and co-worker, Brad, known to everyone but me as Bo, so adjustments could be made to cover my morning newscasts at the radio station.

Shortly after, I was bundled into the ambulance and on my way.

At St Mary's Good Samaritan Hospital (Mt Vernon), I was taken to the Cath Lab. Somewhere along the way, I was informed they were going to put a stint in my heart to clear a vein and they were going in by way of my femoral artery, on the inner thigh of my right leg. With a minimum of pain and the maximum of assistance I was becoming used to, they proceeded with the job.

I should note that throughout the experience, despite my brief experience with heart failure at the Nashville hospital (I told my girlfriend I saw the tunnel, but it had a sign marked "Detour-Repairs Underway", she insisted it probably said "Weight Limit Exceeded:), I was fully conscious.

Everyone got me up into Intensive Care by about 4:00 or 5:00 and I finally got to sleep. I took several naps through the day, but felt fine. At least the pain in my chest was gone. I used my Tracphone to make a few calls including one to my girlfriend. She contacted others and spread the word.

My family drove down from Alton to visit, Brad/Bo showed up along with co-workers from our sister stations. My last day at the hospital, the nurse in charge of my case turned out to be from Nashville and knew of me, another nurse listened to my newscasts on the radio regularly.

Over the coming few days, I would begin marveling at how lucky I had been. I obeyed my own pain and went to the hospital. I didn't have to have my chest cracked open, just a stint put in my heart through, of all places, my leg leaving a small hole. I talked to a procession of people including the doctor who told had an appointment set for me a couple weeks down the road. And by Thursday afternoon, Brad picked me up, we stopped by Walmart for some medicine, warnings to cut down on salt, diet, and exercise fresh in my ears. And, after all that, I feel fine.

Certainly, many questions have occurred to me which will no doubt lead to follow-up articles. It'll help me remember what I need to learn.

Were I asked about my state of mind, I have to say I took the whole thing rather calmly, trusting in the doctors and nurses all along to take care of me...which they did. Sometimes, I wonder at all that faith I had in them, but it was obviously not misplaced. I never got really scared. Even after my chest got the electro-kiss from the defibrillator paddles. Go figure.

Then again, the worst danger anyone can be in is if they're alone and no one is paying any attention to their condition.

But at this stage, here it is Friday morning, I woke up (very good sign), I feel fine, and I'm dashing off a quick article before going out for a walk.

One thing it has made me think about. I just turned 58 years old a few weeks ago. I've never felt any different as the years passed.

I remember as a teen we would talk to teachers about getting older and couldn't understand how you could feel the same from day to day, year to year and suddenly find yourself in your 30's.

As you age, of course, you understand it a lot better. Plus kids are idiots with no experience. Can't be helped. Comes with the territory. Think back on your own life. Sometimes I think I'm lucky I was just allowed to survive my teen years much less my childhood.

I'm supposed to be a few years from retirement, but I'm still me, still daydreaming too much, still having fun doing stuff I liked in my 20's, still writing, reading 70 or 80 books a year, adjusting only to the minor physical changes as the years have passed.

But I just had a heart attack. Is that going to really change anything fundamental? I mean, other than the obvious adjustments.

Hell no.